


Closure

by kitkatt0430



Series: Hartmon Bingo 2020 [15]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cisco falls through the floor and is injured, Forced to Rely on an Enemy/Rival, Gen, Hartley's not proud of how he acted in Season 1, Hopeful Ending, Post-Season/Series 01 AU, Pre-Friendship, physical injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatt0430/pseuds/kitkatt0430
Summary: After the Singularity, Cisco decides Hartley deserves to know the truth about Harrison Wells and the accelerator.  But that means tracking Hartley down first.  Cisco would have preferred that process not involved falling through the floor of an abandoned building.
Relationships: Cisco Ramon & Hartley Rathaway
Series: Hartmon Bingo 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656343
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62
Collections: Hartmon Bingo





	Closure

**Author's Note:**

> For the Hartmon Bingo prompt B5 - Forced to rely on an enemy/rival

The first thing he notices is the pain. Everything hurts. His head hurts, his hands hurt, his knees hurt, one of his ankles... as awareness sets in, the pain gets worse, but the focus of it narrows down to the places actually in pain. That's probably a good thing.

Hopefully it means he doesn't have a concussion.

Cisco opens his eyes and has to blink a few times. He doesn't know where he is and doesn't remember how he got there which isn't a good sign. Of course neither does being in pain, but at least if he'd woken up at a hospital or Caitlin's infirmary at STAR Labs, then he'd know he was being taken care of already and everything was going to be okay. But the lighting is too dark and the walls too dingy which tells him he's most definitely not in a hospital; the floor beneath his cheek tells him he's probably not safe.

He's not tied up, which is a plus.

Struggling to sit up, Cisco takes better stock off his surroundings. Boarded up windows letting in the bare minimum of light... and they're high up near the ceiling. So he's probably in a basement. There are cobwebs everywhere, ergo it's not a well used or cleaned basement.

Abandoned. The word jumps into Cisco's mind and he has to turn it over in his head a few times before he remembers. He was checking an abandoned building for someone.

Who...

Cisco's brain is still to fuzzy on the details so he goes back to cataloging his circumstances.

Like... there's a hole in the ceiling. Right above him. Presumably that's how Cisco came to be in this basement room. He fell through the floor. So it's not just an abandoned building, it's an abandoned building that's reached the point of having rotted joists or whatever it's called. _The Property Brothers_ called them joists, right?

Whatever. The building is unsafe and Cisco is unsafe and hurt inside of it. Time to call Barry and ask for help.

It takes Cisco a minute to find his phone and several more to finally accept that it's broken. The screen is cracked and won't come on, even when he tries to hold down the power button. Which turns out to be jammed.

"Shit," Cisco says. The first thing he's said since waking up down here. He repeats it a few times, as much to simply to break up the quiet as to give voice to his mounting anxiety and frustration. The phone goes back in his pocket and Cisco takes better stock of his body.

Hands and right cheek are scraped up but not bleeding too badly. There's a tender spot on his forehead that's probably turning some truly horrendous colors; it's likely what knocked him unconscious and making him feel fuzzy. Probably - hopefully - not a concussion though. His back and ribs hurt but nothing feels broken or cracked. His knees ache but nothing's dislocated so he probably just knocked them too hard in the fall. His right ankle, though, is tender and swollen. Maybe broken, maybe a bad sprain, probably going to make walking a bitch either way.

It's entirely possible his shoe's gonna have to be cut off which sucks but it was getting to be about time for new tennis shoes anyway. The treads were nearly worn off so their traction was terrible and the left shoe was letting water in on rainy days.

Cisco scrubbed a hand across his face - the undamaged side - and then starts looking for a way out. There are two doors. One has a window cut into it so hopefully that's the right exit. It's the closer of the two doors so Cisco stands a better chance of reaching it. But the room itself is otherwise empty. No conveniently useful chair that can help him get up, help him walk out, help him rest when his ankle feels like giving out.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Cisco's starting to get scared now. No way to call for help and he's lost and alone and he hurts and...

"Fuck, Ramon, is that you?"

And Hartley Rathaway is peering down on him from above.

That's right. Cisco had come here looking for Hartley. Because he'd thought Rathaway deserved to know the truth about what happened with Wells in the end. Despite what a shitty person Hartley was and what he'd tried to do to Barry and how ashamed Cisco had felt about letting him escape... Hartley hadn't deserved what Wells did to him and, if Cisco were being honest, Cisco felt more ashamed about the device he'd used against Hartley - that Hartley had turned on him - than he did about accidentally letting Rathaway run free.

"Yeah," Cisco replied, aiming for a shout and winding up with a croak. Which was fine; Hartley would hear him anyway.

"You look like shit."

"Feel like it," Cisco responded, but Hartley had already disappeared from above.

Cisco swallowed nervously, stomach suddenly very queasy. They hadn't exactly parted on good terms. Or even neutral terms. No, they'd parted on very bad terms. What if Hartley just left him here?

No. No Cisco was not going to panic. Even if Hartley had abandoned him here, Cisco would get out of this. He had to get out of this.

Carefully - painfully - Cisco got his legs into position to try and stand up, only to let out a pained shout as his ankle wouldn't take his weight. Breathing hard, Cisco tried to regain his focus. The world was dizzy and his ears were ringing from how much he hurt.

The windowed door creaked open. Hartley peered in and then walked into the room, looking rather paler than usual.

"You really did a number on yourself, Cisquito," Hartley said. "What the hell were you thinking, coming here?"

"I was looking for you, actually." Cisco couldn't shake his fear even though Hartley hadn't abandoned him here after all. This was someone who'd hurt him in a lot of different ways, for all that Cisco had hurt him back. This was someone who'd hurt Cisco's friends. Punched Caitlin. Nearly killed Barry.

And now Cisco had no choice but to trust him while sitting on the floor vulnerable and hurt.

"Couldn't be to put me back in the pipeline. Would have sent your precious Flash for that one," Hartley observed, walking closer. "I'm going to take a look at your wounds. That's all, okay?" He didn't actually make any move to do that, though, and it took Cisco a moment to realize he was waiting for permission.

"Okay," Cisco responded shakily, but somehow a little calmer.

Crouching down, Hartley asked some fairly generic questions about how Cisco fell - rotten floor gave out under his feet, Cisco can remember that now, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as gravity dragged him down through the crumbling floor - and what hurts the most and what is today's date and can Cisco bend and flex various joints okay and may Hartley check his pupil response with his flashlight?

"Well, pupil response seems okay and in my very limited first aid experience that probably means you're not concussed or at least not badly concussed. So that just leaves your ankle." Hartley grimaced and glanced back at the door. "The stairs are safe enough. But there's two steps that have to get skipped. It'd be best to give Allen a call and have him run by to pick you up."

Which answered the question of whether Hartley knew the Flash's real identity. Barry wasn't gonna like that.

"My phone's broken and I don't have his number memorized," Cisco told him.

"Well fuck," Hartley closed his eyes and shook his head. "Why were you looking for me, Cisco?"

"Dr. Wells is dead. I thought you'd want to know."

Hartley froze. Took a shuddering breath. And then another. Then... "okay, that's..." he trailed off and looked away for a moment. "The singularity," he finally said.

"Yeah."

"Okay, then. Let's get you out of here, Cisquito." Hartley offered Cisco his hands. "I promise. I'll get you out of here, alright?"

Putting the choice in Cisco's hands again. Not that Cisco's got a choice about trusting Hartley one way or the other, but it's still...

Cisco takes Hartley's hands and let him help hoist Cisco to his feet. Hartley takes most of Cisco's weight so that he's not further stressing his 'probably sprained' ankle.

"You're lucky I heard you crash through the floor and came to see what happened," Hartley muttered as he shifted Cisco's weight on him a little and guided Cisco's arm to a better grip around his shoulders. "Why were you checking _here_ for me?"

"You'd been seen in the area a lot, I thought..."

"One building off," Hartley admitted. "It's in better condition and I'm not the only one squatting there right now."

"Oh."

"Let's try taking a step, okay?" Hartley waited for Cisco to nod and then he talked them through stepping forward. And it hurt, but it was doable. But Cisco was pretty sure the stairs weren't gonna work, a doubt which he voiced.

"Okay." Hartley didn't bother arguing with him. "Then let's get you to the stairs where you can at least sit comfortably. I will go get you help, okay?"

"Sure." Cisco's voice wavered but Hartley didn't comment on it.

Instead they concentrated on shifting forward. One step at a time. To the door and then through it. Down the hallway to another door and through that. Then to the stairs where Cisco sat down on the second step, grateful and gasping for breath and his forehead all gross and sweaty, hair sticking uncomfortably all over his face.

"I'm going to bring you a water bottle. I will be back," Hartley said the words firmly.

"Okay," Cisco agreed, feeling terrible and awful and desperately not wanting to be left alone. Hartley squeezed his shoulder and then disappeared up the steps. He'd left Cisco his flashlight, though, because it was dark and there was no electricity.

But that meant Cisco was alone in the dark, injured with nothing to hold onto but a flashlight and the assurances of someone he had never liked and had many reasons not to trust.

Hartley came back with the promised water bottle. "Do you want me to call 911 or would you rather I get the Flash's attention?"

"I'd rather... I'd rather Barry," Cisco admitted and then gave Hartley his phone. "If you can get the number off the sim card..."

"Right. Hope this wasn't a new phone," Hartley muttered. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Alright."

And then Hartley was gone again.

Cisco's hands were shaking, which made the light in his hands shake. So he set that aside and opened up the water bottle Hartley'd left him. It was a new bottle, still sealed. A grocery store 'off-brand' of bottled water. The water was cool in his parched mouth and Cisco felt a little steadier after a few slow sips.

Still freaked out. Still not at all comfortable depending on Hartley for help. But he was somehow certain that Hartley would come through on his promises.

"Okay, so I've got your sim card working in this phone." Hartley's voice startles Cisco from half-dozing against the wall. "It's a burner, so I don't mind if you hang onto it while waiting to get a new one."

There's a distinct possibility it's stolen, though whether Hartley stole it himself or bought it off someone who stole it, Cisco doesn't care to ask. It doesn't matter. It doesn't make the offer any less thoughtful or kind.

"Thanks," Cisco rasped and then took a drink of his water bottle.

Hartley settled beside him and handed Cisco both the burner phone and the remains of his dead cell phone. "I figured your friend would be less likely to race to bad conclusions if he hears your voice instead of mine."

"True," Cisco agreed and then clumsily flipped open the phone. No unlock so he went straight to contacts and Barry's number.

"I should probably go," Hartley muttered, starting to stand up again. But Cisco's free hand clamped onto his, as though of it's own free will.

"Sorry," Cisco muttered, letting go. "Just... don't want to be alone. It's fine, though. I mean... Barry'll be here in practically a blink of an eye once I call."

Hartley shrugged and settled back down. "I can wait."

"Thanks." Cisco took a deep breath and then called Barry.

* * *

"Looking better than the last time I saw you," commented a familiar voice and Cisco looked up from his coffee to see Hartley cradling a cup in his hands and gazing at Cisco with a somewhat awkward expression.

"Yeah. My ankle isn't too bad after all. Sprained but I'm good with crutches. Thanks for looking out for me," Cisco said, the 'thanks' sliding surprisingly easily off his tongue.

"Yeah, well..." Hartley shrugged, at a loss for words. Unusual of him, to be sure.

"Have a seat," Cisco offered, moving his crutches out of the way.

"I was going to..." Hartley glanced over his shoulder at the exit. "Just saying 'hi, that's all."

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Cisco kicked the chair out a bit with his good foot when Hartley shook his head negatively. "Because there's some stuff I wanted to talk to you about. Tell you about. I thought... I dunno, I thought maybe you would want some closure about Dr. Wells. How he died and why he did what he did with the accelerator. If you wanted."

And Cisco can practically see Hartley weighing the pros and cons of sitting down and getting those answers. Deciding whether or not to trust Cisco.

He sat down. "This is going to be a long story, isn't it?"

"Yeah. If you run out of coffee, I'll buy you another," Cisco promised.

"London Fog, not coffee," Hartley corrected absently. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry," Cisco blurted out. "About..."

"I think... we both did and said things we aren't proud of," Hartley cut Cisco off. And he really did look shame faced there. Maybe Hartley really meant what he was saying. "I'm... sorry too."

They sat quietly for a moment. And then Cisco opened his mouth and said, "it actually all starts about fifteen years ago when a time traveler arrived in Central City."

Hartley's mouth opened. Then snapped shut. Opened again. "I think I'm going to need something with chocolate in it for this story." He pushed away from the table, leaving his drink on the table.

"Uhm, I can get you that too, if you want? I know what I have to tell you sounds kind of... nuts." Cisco fished a ten dollar bill out of his wallet. "Also a brownie sounds good to me too, so..."

Hartley snapped up the ten dollar bill just like Cisco had hoped he would. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Be right back."

Stretching, Cisco double checked his crutches to make sure they really weren't a walking hazard for anyone else. But, no, they were safely stowed beneath his chair and the table. Then Cisco let out a shuddery sigh. It wasn't going to be easy, telling Hartley the truth about Harrison Wells and Eobard Thawne. About why the accelerator had really been designed to explode.

About Ronnie dying a hero's death for the second time.

But Cisco had promised himself he'd find a way to fix the problems Eowells had left in his wake. And part of that meant helping Hartley Rathaway find a little closure in order to move on with his life. Maybe help repair his reputation as a scientist, if Hartley would let him. Much like the trek to the stairs the other day, it was path Cisco would have to follow one step at a time.

Maybe along the way he'd find his own sense of closure too.


End file.
